Pudgy Parental Psychotropic Nemesis: Operation Overprotective
by Quillon42
Summary: What if Nemesis were the container coward...


PUDGY PARENTAL PSYCHOTROPIC NEMESIS: OPERATION OVERPROTECTIVE (A Resident Evil 3 Story)

SEPTEMBER 28, 1998: 7:19 P.M.

Certainly that soldierlike girl from a few minutes back had no idea what she was talking about. If this wasn't any kind of rescue, I had no idea what was.

The troopers in their gas-masky, riot-geary garb were a bit rough with me while they were trying to get me out of that huge container, sure. But I had locked it up pretty tight, and who knew what the hell it could have been, pounding at that door? I was convinced the carrion carrying on outside the building had finally broken in, that the gross goose known as Yours Truly was cooked but good.

But these guys who found me, they were living. Breathing. So I knew upon registering that, that I still had a chance; that I could trust them. Because after all...was there really an uninfected human being who would do a fellow man any kind of harm, especially in these undead circumstances?

SEPTEMBER 28, 1998: 9:07 P.M.

From what I can remember these past couple of hours—it gets murkier by the minute, in all honesty—they took me to this…facility. Said that, for all that I went through, I would be feeling better in just a short while. No; they didn't say "better."

"Improved." Whatever that meant.

Anyway, after they treated me…boy, did they ever do a bang-up job…pumped me with a few uppers too many, to the point that I've been seeing stars from time to time. But they actually granted me the veritable wish of my heart. They said that she was still out there—and that it was my duty to go and find her.

My daughter. I could have sworn that I saw her taken, taken down totally by those creatures…swallowed whole, even…but the attendants, they said that she was still alive. I couldn't believe it when I heard it.

It was great; they gave me this giant black coat, of a sort, 'cause I imagine they wanted to be courteous as to how cold and forbidding it is out there, so it's just to buffer against the elements. I've been pretty comfortable in it, though I have to say, I'm having a lot of trouble seeing out of one eye. Guess they couldn't fix everything. I do feel a hell of a lot better, though—hell of a lot "improved," as they would say.

The soldiers and the scientists, they all told me that I'd best be able to find her at the cop shop downtown. So here I am, stalking along, picking through all the wreckage of what was once Raccoon…

And then I see her.

_ Estelle._

My beloved flesh and blood; the little one lost in all this morbid madness, the fault all falling on my shoulders. I should have done something, all those hours ago.

But now, with this new chance and the enhancements those eggheads gave me, I could make up for all of it.

I hurry over to her, calling her name as I go.

"_ESTELLE." _

To be honest I want to cry it out manically. But my voice is controlled with some sort of creepy conviction I can't explain as the name emanates from my mouth.

It's really her, I know it—although I don't recall her ever wearing that yellow vest that I see on her now. Maybe her mother bought it for her to match with the leaves of the new season, shortly after we all checked in at the Apple.

I collect my little baby, gather her up into my arms. There's something rigid in the way she feels now; I pray it isn't any kind of rabidity set in from one of those…things. I swear, if any of them touched her, I'll rip this entire town apart like some kind of whacked-out Frankenstein's monster. All the torches, pitchforks, and grenade launchers wouldn't be able to stop me.

There's something secure in the way she feels now, though, too. I say her name one more time, firmly…then I gently pat her on the forehead with my hand.

A second later my baby girl falls out of my arms, collapses to the ground and disappears.

Impulsively I want to shred myself in half with my bare hands, emitting the shrillest of shrieks…

Then I see her again, just near the door to the booking station.

And my little lady, I can note now—she's booking, herself. Away from me.

_"ESTELLE!"_ escapes from my lips again, once more originating in anguish from my heart, but coming from my lips only as a guttural growl. With the strongest of parental resolve I enter the station to get her back.

SEPTEMBER 28, 1998: 10:11 P.M.

Honestly, Stelly; this really isn't the time for hide and seek.

The last time you ran away, and stole onto a bus leaving town…well, you know what happened. Mother and I had to follow you on, and we had to get three tickets total just to extract you off that ride, and then we had to teach you such a lesson.

And all the strangers standing around, that time; it was so embarrassing, damn it.

Now you've gone and hitched onto another ride—but this time I'm going to be stricter in my approach.

Seemingly as if in response to my own hardening up, as I suppose it's noticeable enough that anyone can sense it, the stranger near my little girl on the ride this time…he's not just hanging out. As Estelle runs away, to another car like the little pain in the ass she can be from time to time…this guy—the nerve of him—he waves his arms in my direction emphatically, as if to make the most punctuated point possible. I can even feel his words impacting, literally striking against my face, my chest as he stands there.

Well, I'm not going to just stand here and let this happen.

Huffily I head on over to his place on the train car and I slap him. I expect him to stagger back a bit from it…but upon whirling around I find that he is now several feet behind me. I approach the man again, heading steadily towards his position on the floor, my hand in the air and prepared to give him another what-for if necessary. But before I can get to him…

[HSKAABOOOOOMMM…]

The bastard.

Had one of those novelty, party firecrackers on him. Popped it right in my face. Should have just made me see lights a second.

So why is it that I'm all of a sudden off the train and onto my back, rolling around as I'm having a conniption fit?

SEPTEMBER 29, 1998: 12:02 A.M.

Ahh—that must have been what the firecracker was all about.

Raccoon's fall parade—the Clock Tower Cavalcade.

Of course! So _that's_ why they packed my horn.

She's being elusive, my Estelle—and I confess I am confused as anything by now, as I thought we'd all be skipping town by this juncture—but my little one, she was always full of surprises. Probably just wants to lead me on the scenic route as we go through our little exodus from the City.

I reach the small knoll on which I performed last season, and I remember all those precious moments. The floats were going strong, both the ones motoring on the ground and floating through the air on tenuous strings and cables.

When the one with Portly Possum was passing by, I was supposed to sound a stirring note from my trombone, to infuse the event with that much more spirit. I always had a talent for music…almost as much as I did for writing. I'm still resolved to scribble down quite the tome, when we get out of here—so many unusual experiences, and it's even past midnight!

That's why it feels a bit odd that I'm standing here now, poised to sound another note from my T'Bone, with the sky all black and the clock striking a dark twelve. But there's Portly, passing once again. So I know what I have to do!

[BOOOOOOMMMMMM!]

I'm shunted back a step by the resulting burst of light. The Possum's just strands of streaking cinders now. What, did they fill the floats with hydrogen this year?

Why is my Estelle backing away from me, once again? Stop playing around with me, girl!

(And why does she have on that blue tube top and black miniskirt? We always taught our little girl the honor inherent in modesty. She was better off with the vest outfit!)

SEPTEMBER 29, 1998: 5:57 A.M.

_ Verily so friggin'…tired…sleep…_

I'm stretching out on the floor of my workplace at the moment. My baby girl is only a few paces away, but she still doesn't want to come along. Still playing around with me.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not into corporal punishment in any way. It has always been the case that I've spared the rod, and spoiled the shit out of my Stelly. Why she's resisting so much is beyond me; perhaps she's just as scared as I am in all of this.

Everything seems so wrong, anyhow. The parade at midnight; work being open at this hour…it just doesn't add up.

And she's putting herself in such grave danger right now, by being mere feet away from the rail prototype that I was working on—I have to save her.

But I'm so goddamn beat. My daughter, she exposed me to the emergency shower elsewhere in the factory…washed me out but good. Surely it was an accident on her part, and she's just frozen in shock right now, at the predicament she's in with the cannon at the ready nearby.

I find that I'm crawling toward her, uttering her name with everything I've got:

_ "ESTELLE."_

She has always been the beacon in my existence, the light that has shone and shown me the way…the Star of Stars, true to her Christian name. Slowly, surely along the floor in my semi-sedentary haze I reach…try all I can to get her out of the way…

[SSSHHHHHRAAASSSSSHHHHHOWWWWW]

And I'm bathed in the blasting light of the rail mechanism. It's now that I know that I'm done for…but at least this time, I can be secure in the knowledge that unlike with those city streets last night, I did all I could to save her.

And as I lay on my back, ready to go literally to sleep on the job, a long sleep…she approaches me, my Estelle, blowing kisses at me that I can feel with even greater impact than the waves and words of that stranger on the train.

She even says her name, twice, as she ministers to me with the reciprocated love I've sought from her all these past several hours. It's enough to warm me, grant me the release I've been yearning for, as I recede into my reward of repose…for now…


End file.
